


Real People

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-03
Updated: 2001-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Vin Tanner goes missing Chris Larabee discovers how much he cares... and that scares him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real People

There were days when Chris Larabee wished he had never taken Judge Travis up on his offer. Staying in one place too long had the bad habit of making you start seeing the figures that moved around you as real people - and real people had feelings, needs. Real people desired some investment of your own feelings and needs. No, not desired - demanded.

Five years ago, as he stood beside the freshly covered graves of his wife and son, Larabee had made a vow never to let anyone get as close as Sarah and Adam: losing them hurt too much, and he never wanted to feel such pain again. Better to keep people at a distance; all people, even those who had once been his closest friends. He'd left the ranch and that life far behind him, had drifted aimlessly for years.

And then he had drifted into Four Corners.

He'd only meant to stay for a few days, maybe a week, always pressing onwards with Buck Wilmington dogging his heels no matter what time he left or what direction he took. Instead it had been more than two years; a single glance, a moment of empathy, walking side-by-side to see an injustice was not carried out had, somehow, bound him to this place. That one selfless act leading to many more, bringing together a ragged band of individuals and misfits.

Two years was plenty of time for the members of this ragged band to become real people, gave plenty of opportunity for those demands and feelings to be laid at his feet. He hadn't even been aware that he'd started meeting those demands; a small gesture here, a few pleasantries given there and, suddenly, these people had names, pasts, futures; they had likes and dislikes, things that set them apart from each other.

He chewed, angrily, on the end of a cheroot.

All this time he'd been fooling himself, even rode off once with barely a backward glance when it looked like none of them were needed anymore. They all had... except, maybe JD. Perhaps, at that time, he still had the shield firmly in place, was still filled with the desire to avenge his murdered wife and child... still mourned the life he had lost when they died.

A lot of time had passed since then, a lot of water under the bridge. He had his answers, had finally finished grieving: Ella Gaines had given him that much and, even now, he was unsure of exactly why he had not shot her when he had the chance. He would never make that mistake again.

_Bitch!_

Yes. A lot of time had passed, time enough for a man with no direction to find himself, unconsciously, settling into a new life. Time enough for a man's heart to mend and seek a new companion.

And yet, despite these years of watching each other's backs, of riding into danger to save one or another of the seven... of sharing coffee around a campfire, laughing and talking into the early hours as they played cards, passing around a bottle of whiskey in the saloon... of watching the sunset and rise together... despite all of this he truly believed he had kept this vow to remain apart - until now.

As he watched Vin Tanner limp across the dusty street and into the saloon, he felt his heart quicken with some other nameless emotion.

"Hell!"

He was still fooling himself. He'd let them get close to him - all of them - but none so close as Vin Tanner. He'd blinded himself, not wanted to see the truth, not willing to admit that there was more between them than mere association; more than just friendship and, frankly, that sudden realization had shaken him to the core.

How could he be thinking these thoughts? How could he want what he knew he wanted... with Vin? He'd spent the past hour trying to find some valid explanation, but he was no sexually-starved adolescent seeking relief no matter what form it took, and Vin, despite that long, curly hair and those big blue eyes, would never be mistaken for a woman.

Real People; all around him. What if they learned of his unnatural desire for another man? What would they think of him? What would Vin think of him?

Vin. It all came back to Vin Tanner, and the others that had crossed the line to become more than figures passing through his life. They had become important to him, and he had come to realize that there was more than one way to lose. Death was not the only knife that cut the cord between people; hatred, anger... disgust, these could hurt him just as deeply.

He tightened his lips in anger--self-directed anger. Why had he stayed here so long? More to the point, how had he managed to deceive himself all this time?

He reflected back on the days events; a day that had revealed, far too clearly, how he had been deluding himself....

****

The day had started the same as usual; seeing to his horse. Not that he didn't trust Yosemite but, after all, she was **his** horse; his responsibility. That's how he came to notice that Vin's was missing from her customary stall next to his own. The old man hadn't seen the sharpshooter; not since he took Peso out on patrol several hours earlier.

"Should have been back by now."

It annoyed him when one of the others wasn't where he supposed they ought to be, passing this annoyance off as a lack of consideration on their part; a lack of discipline, rather than admit that he might actually give a damn about them.

Not willing to contemplate that something could be wrong, he decided that Vin had probably found himself a perch on some hill watching the sun rise, and would be back shortly. The Tracker had a penchant for trying to stay as far from civilization as he could, preferring the quiet solitude of the open plains to the rowdiness of the town--although he seemed to spend more and more of his time seated by his side in the saloon these days. Larabee pondered on that thought for a moment, then pushed it aside, unwilling to see anything more in it than two associates sharing a bottle after a day's work.

He finished settling his horse and then walked across to the saloon where Inez would have fresh coffee on the boil, thick and strong, just the way he liked it, then took up his usual seat facing the door, and waited.

Three cups of coffee, some grits and an hour later, he gave up pretending he wasn't concerned about Vin. When Buck passed by a few minutes later he called out in his soft drawl.

"Buck. Have you seen Vin?"

"Not since he took over patrol. He not back yet?"

"Nope."

Buck eased himself into the seat opposite Chris, pulled the barely touched bowl of grits over and started spooning them in as if he hadn't eaten in days. He paused between mouthfuls as he noticed the lack of expression on his long-time friend's face, recognizing this as Larabee's _don't let them see you care_ look, but there was something else in that gaze, something he couldn't define. Whatever it was, Buck knew Chris was a man of action and would not sit around pondering forever.

"Thinking of taking a ride, Pard?"

Larabee's eyes refocused, gazing deep into the seemingly nonchalant, blue eyes, but the way Buck stroked that mustache of his was a dead give away that he was a might concerned too--and not just for Vin Tanner. His own eyes narrowed as he realised Buck was reading him like a book and he sighed, deeply, glancing around the saloon.

"Ain't nothing brewing round here except the coffee. Could use a ride."

Buck nodded, again in that seemingly nonchalant way of his, as if he were already bored with the day and was wondering if there were something more exciting to be done. He smiled, knowingly, at the receding back as Larabee stalked out of the saloon, black duster flapping in the gentle breeze that was funneled along the main street, recognizing the man's implicit acceptance of company on the ride.

Within fifteen minutes they had saddled up and were heading out of Four Corners, following the route Vin had mentioned he was going to take when he relieved Buck earlier that morning.

Several hours passed before Larabee saw something that made his blood freeze; Vin's mare's leg lying by the side of the dusty trail. All around, the ground was scuffed up like there had been a fight, but a small clump of dry earth told him something else that made his heart beat faster in fear; there had been blood on the ground--but who's blood?

Buck pushed his hat back on his head and rubbed a hand across his forehead. It was nearly noon and the sun was beating down fiercely, directly overhead. He took a deep swallow of water from the proffered canteen and wiped away the slops with the back of his hand before handing it back. He gestured, expansively, towards the ground.

"Even JD could follow this trail. Whoever it is don't care none for covering their tracks."

"Buck. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Reckon so. Bounty hunter."

His mouth a tight line, Larabee cussed inwardly. So many times over these past years he and Vin had talked of going to Tascosa and figuring out a way to clear Vin's name, and so many times the needs of the town had changed their priorities. With Eli Joe dead it became harder to prove, but the man had talked in front of his own men, admitted to pining the murder on Vin. Now, only a month after they had finally gotten around to it, had caught up with some of those men and made the Tracker a _free-man_ , **this** had to happen.

Visions of that damn poster came back to haunt him; the words _dead or alive_ flashing through his head. Why did it have to happen now?

"If it is a Bounty Hunter, then he has several hours on us."

Chris nodded. It would take a good hour to get back to Four Corners even at a fast gallop. By the time they returned to this spot with the others, Vin might be long gone - that's if he was even still alive.

_Dead or Alive._

Fear clutched at Larabee's heart, sending a dagger of dread deep into his soul. He recognized this feeling; it was the same one he had felt when he saw the black smoke drifting across the sky from the direction of his ranch, on the day Sarah and Adam had died. He never thought he would feel that death's claw again; had vowed he would never grow so attached to another being that he would feel the darkness that clenched his gut and coiled like a rattler around his heart, paralyzing him with the venom of self-hatred, and the knowledge that he may be too late. Yet here he was, sitting on the same horse, with the same friend by his side... like a mirror of that terrible day when the world as he knew it had come to an end. He felt sick; caught himself almost gagging and took a hasty swig of water from his canteen to wash down the bile that rose in his throat - and all for Vin Tanner.

"Chris? You alright? You sick or something?"

Larabee turned away, knowing all the colour must have drained from his face leaving him white as a sheet.

"I'm fine."

He turned back to face Buck, stared at the other man as Buck pushed aside his concern for Chris and asked his unspoken question; do they go back to Four Corners for the others - or do they follow the trail?

Larabee grimaced, his eyes following the trail to the horizon, and came to a decision. He had to know if Vin were alive or dead. If Buck wanted to turn back, then he'd have to turn back alone.

"I'm going on."

Chris spurred his horse onwards, the black leaping forward as the spurs dug into her sensitive flank, the shortened rein holding her firmly under her master's control as they broke into a fast canter. Larabee was almost grateful when the gray appeared in his peripheral vision, and glanced sideways as Buck drew up beside him, pacing the black with ease, a tight but welcoming smile on his face.

Luck was on their side. Barely an hour later they saw a thin column of smoke climbing up into the azure sky. They dismounted, deciding to climb to the top of the rise on foot, slithering the final ten feet on their bellies. Below them was a small camp and off to one side stood three horses; Vin's among them. More to the point, Chris could count three men in the camp; two near the fire eating what passed for a plate of beans apiece while the third lay in the shade of a rock, unmoving. Larabee recognized Tanner's buckskin coat.

For one terrifying moment he thought Vin was dead. Thought he would never again watch those agile fingers caress the trigger of a rifle as he lined up a shot, or stroke along Peso's neck, so gentle. Thought he'd never again see the twinkle in those blue eyes as the Tracker made some dry but witty comment, or see the intelligence that shone so strongly as he recited some small poem he had composed on the spur of the moment.

He found himself praying that the stillness of that lone figure had nothing to do with death, his heart only starting to beat once more when the figure shifted position with a soft grunt of pain.

The direct approach seemed to be the best seeing how neither of the Bounty Hunters were taking any notice of anything bar the food they were busy shoveling into their mouths. Buck slipped around to the side and, on Larabee's signal, they stepped into the camp, guns drawn and ready. As they drew closer to the pair of hungry men, Larabee's mouth dropped open in disbelief. These fearless Bounty Hunters who had managed to take down Vin Tanner were no more than a couple of boys: not even as old as JD.

They stood up fast, tin plates dropping to the ground with a dull clang, all puffed up with false bravado as they faced their silent attackers.

"Don't do it, boys." Buck waggled a finger in warning as he saw their hands twitch towards the six-shooters strapped to their hips. "Suspect you boys reckon you got some lowdown varmit wanted for murder."

One boy reached, slowly, into his vest pocket and drew out a sheet of paper, unfolding it to reveal the hated poster.

"Figure we have at that, mister."

Larabee found his voice at last. "You figured wrong. That bounty's been lifted. This here's a Law Enforcer appointed by Judge Travis himself."

The boys turned wide-eyed looks upon each other before addressing their comments back to Chris. "Hell, mister. We weren't to know. Sheriff at Eagle Bend gave us this just a few days back."

"Man by the name of Staines?"

"Yeah."

Buck smiled and shook his head slowly, attracting their attention.

"Didn't you get to wonderin' why Sheriff Staines would pass up on a 500 dollar reward seeings how he knew of Tanner's whereabouts?"

"Look, mister. It's your word against Staines... and I can't see no silver star on your chest."

Buck sighed dramatically. "Staines is a no-good, vengeful son of a bitch who's holding a grudge..."

Larabee interrupted Buck before he could get into full swing cussing Staines. He knew his friend had never forgiven the man for the way he had grabbed Larabee's gun, almost managing to turn it on Chris before Nathan had rushed in to save him.

"Way I see it. Only way to prove this one way or the other is to go back to Four Corners and wire the Judge."

The boys gave each other another meaningful look. "If we make it to Four Corners."

Buck laughed out loud. "If we wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Wouldn't stand around here shooting the breeze with you."

****

So here he was, five hours later, standing in the shadows of an alleyway watching Vin Tanner limp into the saloon having let Nathan take care of a flesh wound, and trying to figure out when these six men became real people.

And Vin Tanner? Vin had become more real that any of them, had seeped into every part of his being, turning his world upside down and inside out. He had spent the entire journey back to town desperately trying to hide this sudden desire to touch and hold the injured man. He had tried to cover the emotion with concern, hoping to fool the others into believing he was worried about the leg injury rather than dreaming about those legs straddling his own. Several times he had caught Vin staring at him, questioningly, and prayed that, for once, the intuitive Tracker could not read his thoughts.

How could he face Vin again, knowing, now, how he felt about him? How could he face any of them? Already, he could see, in his mind's eye, their faces turn from quiet acceptance of him as a fellow gunman, into raging disgust.

With a renewed surge of anger, Larabee finished what he had started only half an hour earlier. He forced the last of his few portable belongings into his saddlebags then mounted up, tugging on the rein to guide his horse onto the least visible route out of town. With a viciousness that he had rarely aimed at himself, he refused to look back, yet still he couldn't help but feel like a thief as he rode away without even saying _goodbye_.

****

Larabee put a lot of miles between him and Four Corners before he gave into the need for food and rest. A few hours later, as the first light of dawn streaked across the sky, he had a full stomach and little else; sleep proving elusive, his mind refusing to let go. He kept seeing the faces of the people he had left behind... and one face in particular. He started to wonder if they would miss him; if they even realised that he had gone... and whether they even cared.

His thoughts traveled back to that time when he had gone missing before, ending up unjustly imprisoned not far from Jericho. They'd come looking for him that time. Would they come looking for him now?

_Do you want them to?_

_Hell, no!!_

_Then why didn't you leave a note? Why didn't you say goodbye?_

The same argument went back and forth. Telling them his intention to ride on alone would have been the logical thing to do. He could have made up some excuse or another... and they would have believed him. What would they think of him when they realised he had just ridden off without so much as a wave goodbye?

_Do you care?_

_...Yes..._

That sickening feeling churned in his gut as a small part of him finally acknowledged that he did care about them. Why else would he run from them? Why else would he care what they thought of him? It wasn't too late to return, to pretend he'd just ridden out for a little time alone, but then, what did he have to offer them if he went back? More to the point, what did he have to offer Vin? Could he hide the way he felt about the other man?

He groaned, loudly. Even if he did go back and hid the truth, then all he was offering them was lies, and they deserved better than that from him. No. Far better that he left now while they might still have some respect for him.

_Damn them!_

What right did they have to demand respect for him? What had he ever done to deserve it? It was not like he was rebuilding the church or healing the sick. All he did was hang around and scare off the _bad element_.

Larabee hurled away the tin cup he was drinking from, watching the splattered coffee soak quickly into the parched earth, using anger to drive away the thoughts crowding through his head. He didn't need the others, wouldn't miss the camaraderie, those long evenings teasing each other as they played cards, grinning as JD tried to figure out how Ezra cheated... then there was Josiah's amazingly profound thoughts that drifted across the table from time to time, making him think about the world around him. Nathan's fire and compassion, Buck's antics as he made yet another play for Inez - or any other female in sight... and then there was Vin; quiet, unassuming Vin with that wicked sense of humor he rarely let anyone see, and a poet's heart.

"Goddammit."

It was a small sound, sand sliding on rock, a soft footfall but he snatched his gun from the holster that lay on the ground beside him with lightning reflexes, aiming it as a figure stepped out in front of him, but then relaxed his stance when he recognized the man.

"Trying to get yourself killed, Vin?"

He tried to make the comment seem non-threatening, hoping to appeal to the easy-going spirit of the Tracker. No answer, but Chris could easily read the body language and knew his attempt at levity had failed miserably: Vin Tanner was holding himself rigid with barely suppressed anger.

"You didn't even say goodbye, Chris Larabee. Why? You running away? Never took you for no coward."

"Now just you wait..."

"No, Chris. You wait... and you listen 'cause I ain't gonna say this but once. I know your scared. Scare's me too. All these Folks relying on you, wanting a piece of you..."

"Ain't afraid of no..."

"Then what's got you running, Larabee?"

Tanner's sky blue eyes widened in astonishment when he saw Larabee's own drop away from his in embarrassment, and then a smile grew steadily wider on his face.

He had spent the whole ride, while tracking Larabee, trying to figure out the strange looks Chris had given him after rescuing him from the pair of young Bounty Hunters. It had confused him. The gunslinger had been so solicitous of his leg injury, showing more concern than he had ever done before especially as it was only a flesh wound, as if he was trying to deflect everyone's attention away from his real thoughts. At first, Vin had believed Larabee was angry with him, but then he realised the man was angry at himself. He saw the hands, knuckles white as they held the reins far too tightly, and wondered what those beautiful slim fingers were itching to do that had Larabee hold himself so completely under control.

His own thoughts traveled back over the years.

The connection made the first time they looked at each other had been slowly building into more than mere friendship. Several times he had thought to ride away and never look back, but in the end, he needed to be close to Chris in anyway he could - even if that meant moving into his world and away from the peaceful solitude of the trail.

He remembered Charlotte; beautiful Charlotte trapped in a seemingly loveless marriage. He remembered the words he spoke to her, only later realizing that they were the words he wanted to say to Chris. He wanted to free Chris from his own loveless hell; from the hate and the guilt that consumed him. It was learning that Chris might be in danger that brought him back to his senses... and he had returned to the wagon train, returned Charlotte to her rightful place, and took up his rightful place by Chris' side.

That was the day he realised how much he wanted Chris Larabee, as more than an associate; as more than a friend.

Now, as those smoky green eyes dropped away from his own like a frightened virgin on her wedding night, it seemed so clear to him. He had to go with his instincts; had everything to gain and so little to lose. He spoke, softly, in that so familiar drawl.

"It's me, ain't it, Cowboy."

Anger blazed in the green eyes that came racing back to meet his own as Larabee pushed himself to his feet, gun still in hand.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Chris. I ain't gonna hurt you... except possibly loving you to death."

Tanner took a few steps forward, palms held outwards, as he read the indecision that crossed the handsome face. He was reminded of a young buffalo calf he'd approached one day, the fear in it's eyes as it stood before him; fight or flight. Chris Larabee had that same look, as if one move, one word out of place and he would be facing the business end of that six-shooter.

He stopped only one small step away, close enough to reach out and touch the tired, drawn face. His thumb itched to caress that beautiful mouth, to stroke along the stubbled jawline, and feel those thick golden strands of hair trickle through his fingers. He saw those lips part, the eyes widening in shock, and realised that Larabee must have read his desire.

For one split second he thought 'what if I'm wrong' and then, suddenly, there was no space between them, their mouths locked onto each other, tongues dueling.

His hands were running through the corn-gold hair, cupping the back of Larabee's head to allow him no chance to pull back as he ravaged the beautiful mouth, tongue thrusting into the wet cavern, possessing him with an arrogance that seemed almost out of place on the softly spoken Tracker. He found only token resistance as he forced the slightly taller man down to the ground, the gun dropping unheeded into the dust, his body covering the slim, dark-clad body. He ground his hips against the other, his own pleasure doubling as a moan vibrated through their still joined mouths, feeling an answering hardness pushing at the tight, black pants.

Tanner reached between their close-pressed bodies, nimble fingers releasing the burgeoning erection from its denim prison.

He pulled away, suddenly, straddling Larabee's thighs, lifting to his hands and knees so he could look down into the flushed face, wanting to see the desire darkening those piercing green eyes. He leaned back down to softly caress the kiss swollen lips with his own then pulled up, thigh muscles straining as his hands grasped the dark denim and, wordlessly, urged Larabee to lift his hips. He drew the fabric down, staring in wonder at the hardened flesh that curved up towards the flat stomach, then he removed his heavy buckskin jacket and dropped his own britches.

The Tracker lowered himself until he could feel hot flesh on flesh, then started a slow, sliding rhythm, grinding their lower bodies together. Eyes locked, green on blue, as they climbed towards heaven, sweat beading, matting the sun-kissed hair as his own fell in waves about his lover's face. He watched the pupils dilate even further, the green eyes glazing over, breathing becoming erratic as Chris fell over the edge... and a thousand lines of poetry filled his head as he wondered if he had ever seen anything more beautiful... before he lost himself to the same tremendous force of nature.

The sun had fully risen by the time he felt he could move again, his limbs feeling heavy and awkward as he pushed to one side. He grimaced as the sticky residue of their love-making made itself known. Pulling the bandanna from his neck, he tried to clean the worst from their spent bodies then he lay back down beside Larabee, aware that his lover had not spoken a single word since being confronted earlier.

"How are you doing, Cowboy."

Tanner rose up onto one elbow and looked down at the silent man. His fear of finding regret or horror dissipated, and he smiled into the sleeping face, laying a gentle kiss on the slightly parted lips.

An hour passed before Larabee began to stir, the exhaustion of the past day having, finally, caught up with him. Tanner watched and waited, then grinned as a slightly embarrassed, lazy smile drifted across the handsome face.

"Woke none too soon, Cowboy. Sun's climbing so this rock won't afford us much more shade."

Vin rose to his feet, quickly straightening himself out then offered a hand, pleased when it was taken. Rather than letting go once Larabee was standing, instead he pulled him close and placed a firm, meaningful kiss upon the still swollen lips.

"Just so's you know it weren't no dream."

Larabee looked away, chagrined, and slowly fastened his own clothing. He glanced askance at the good looking Tracker.

"Never figured myself to be one of them funny cowboys. You neither."

"Well, I ain't got no hankering to dress like no woman, not that I wouldn't be as purty as Ezra were that time." He grinned but then sobered quickly. "Can't see you in no dress neither, Chris... and there ain't nuthing funny about the the way I feel for you." The blue eyes softened in remembrance of the firm body writhing beneath his own just a short time ago. "Loving you felt good... and right."

Vin sat back down in the remaining shadow cast by the rock, back pressed against its still cool surface. He waited until the gunslinger had settled himself down beside him before continuing.

"Thought of you often. Wanted you. Had this dream of me and you in that big, old feather bed of yours back at your shack."

"Would have been a might more comfortable than the ground. Got dust in my pants. Itches like crazy."

Vin chuckled gently. "Reckon we're both in need of a hot tub right now."

He scratched his belly meaningfully as the tight, itchiness of dried cum made itself known, and saw a mirror of his own minor suffering in the grimace on Larabee's profiled face. Both men fell silent, watching as the rock shadow was slowly eaten by the rising sun, neither bothering to move, not even when the sun fell full on their legs. Eventually the silence was broken.

"Reckon we can make this work?"

"Can't but try, Cowboy."

Chris nodded slowly, a small smile playing about his lips, realizing that he had just agreed to allow this one person back into his life. They could move on together, drift from town to town... never have to stay too long; never have to worry about the real people and their demands.

The sound of horses hooves thundering towards them caught their attention, putting paid to any more thought, and they rose quickly to their feet and retrieved their guns. Both men relaxed as the familiar figures of five horsemen drew close.

When horses and men came to a halt, Larabee wasn't sure what to expect and found himself unable to meet their eyes. He waited until they had slipped from their mounts, his own eyes darting away in guilt as they slowly approached the missing pair. Eventually, he had to see, green eyes flicking from one man to the next, taking measure of each man's expression. Josiah's showed concern--and relief that the missing lambs from his flock had been found safe. Nathan's dark eyes reflected the same concern mixed with a dash of anger that they had both left without a word. Ezra seemed a might exasperated, dabbing at his sweating forehead with a handkerchief, covering his concern with annoyance at being dragged from his comfy bed, and JD seemed confused... and a little hurt, but it was the expression on Buck's face that made him flinch. It was the iciness of anger and bitter disappointment that stared back at him, as if he had been betrayed one too many times.

Larabee felt his own face flush with renewed guilt as he remembered how this friend had followed him from town to town, determined not to let him sink into a pit of despair, alone, following the deaths of Sarah and Adam. So many times he had packed up and drifted on without so much as a word, and so many times Buck had found him a day, maybe a week later. Perhaps Buck had believed those days were over - until now.

Larabee looked back down at the dusty ground. Real people; standing around him. He could feel each of their needs and, suddenly, wanted so much to give them what they demanded of him, but the fear still held him.

The hand that dropped onto his shoulder and pressed reassurance startled him, momentarily, but then he looked over his shoulder and met the caring, deep blue eyes of his newfound lover, finding strength in the touch, giving him the courage to turn back and meet his fear head on. He knew they need some sort of explanation and began, haltingly.

"I ain't scared of fighting... nor dying." He swallowed hard. "But... I guess... I guess I am scared of living... of caring... and getting hurt again."

Buck's cold eyes softened, the ice starting to melt as Larabee's stammered words began to sink in, recognizing that his friend was, finally, opening up; finally admitting to the fears that had kept the rest of human race at arms length for five long years.

"Yesterday... when I realised how much I..." Larabee took a deep breath and looked away, still not quite able to admit how much these men had come to mean to him, how they had wriggled their way through the holes in the shield he had thrown around himself. The pressure of that hand on his shoulder increased and he looked back up. "I got scared... and so I ran."

"You gonna keep on running?"

Larabee held Buck's eyes for a moment, the words he had once spoken to Nathan drifting back to him.

_Did losing them make you regret ever knowing them?_

At the time he had been thinking only of Sarah and Adam, had never even realised he was as guilty as Nathan for keeping people at a distance, wanting to avoid the pain of losing them. It occurred to him in that single moment how similar many of them were, how Josiah, Nathan, Ezra, Vin and himself had walked alone for many years in self-imposed exile before the day they came together in Four Corners. Even Buck and JD, for all their social proclivity, seemed most comfortable within their small group of seven.

They cared for him; cared for Vin Tanner. He knew that now. There was still a massive hurdle to jump, still the knowledge of what he and Vin had shared; would share again. Perhaps they **would** turn away in disgust, but then again, maybe they wouldn't. All he knew, suddenly, was that he owed it to these men to give them the chance to make up their own minds about him... and about Vin. He reached across to place his hand over the one of Vin's that still lay on his shoulder. Whatever the outcome he would still come out the winner for he would still have Vin Tanner by his side.

"Well, Chris? Are ya gonna keep on running?"

He raised his head high, a smile reaching his eyes when he realised how few regrets he had for knowing these men--and so much to gain by staying; finally, he found he was able to answer Buck's question truthfully.

"Not any more."

THE END


End file.
